Hibiscus II
by beautifulwhensarcastic
Summary: Another glimpse into the story of Steve's gift for Catherine. Sequel to "Hibiscus"


Thank you to my amazing friend and beta, _**Trish**_ , for support and not smacking herself over all the mistakes ;)

I would also like to thank _**Maureen**_ , for the constant inspiration, downpour of mcrollins emotions and listening to my ideas (often helping me make them better).

This story is a response to many messages I got (here and tumblr), asking for some continuation to the " _Hibiscus_." Granted, I get quite a lot asks about many fics, but this one somehow gained so much love and feedback. I hope this sequel will be of your liking too. (obvious lack of creativity when it came to the title)

* * *

 **McGarrett's House,  
Oahu, Hawaii,  
August, 2009**

The scent of coconut cookies and peanut butter no longer lingers in the small, well lit space, yet it feels like every corner of this small room is soaked in the faint aromatic echo of a blissful past, casting mirthful ghosts of memories scattering around the room, leaving small wet footprints.

John tried to stay away from his kids' bedrooms, forcing himself there only once in a while to dust it off.

The breeze of the ocean sweeping through the ajar window has filled the space with freshness, but it still feels like walking in to find his son wet from the swim, running around and stuffing his mouth with homemade cookies. John remembers the exact spot where Steve fell and his tooth fell out. Not a single tear was shed upon the loss of it; there was, however, a big fuss after the Tooth Fairy left him a carnival ticket instead of the swim-with-sharks trip he wanted.

Shaking himself off from the memory, John slowly steps inside, scanning the room in search of the best place to put the big package. Finally, he carries the tall box to the other side of the room, placing it between a paint chipped dresser and the window. The package is not that heavy as it might seem to be and John is pretty sure he knows what's inside.

Though, admittedly, he's not convinced it's the kind of gift someone would expect. Especially a woman.

Then again, he's instantly reminded of the change that Steve has gone through and all of the missed opportunities to talk to him about such things as romantic gestures toward anyone, who he might ever love.

He sits down on the old, squeaky bed, never taking his eyes off the package. Tracing his fingers nimbly over the soft cotton of the sheets, in which he had used to tuck his son, when he was a small boy, John tries to remember his last conversation with Steve, concerning his heart.

It was a few weeks before April, a few weeks before all hell broke lose. A smile tugs on the corners of his mouth as the image of a completely sheepish, stuttering teenager resurfaces in his mind. He was working on the Marquis, when Steve came to the garage and tried to ask about _being gentle and thoughtful._

The whole ordeal afterwards seemed to have broken his sweet boy, boosting the typical teenager annoyance into resentment and anger.

From what John heard from Joe, as well what he could figure out after each bitter, unwanted by Steve phone call, his son has built up a wall around himself. Understandably so, to avoid any pain and rejection, but resulting in causing even more harm to himself. John, however, was in no position to convince his stubborn son, that not everyone in the world is going to abandon him. Each suggestion that Steve should let himself be loved and cared for by others, has been shot down with a bitter snort.

The first change came when Steve befriended Freddie Hart.

Though still angry at the world, at least he let someone else close, maybe learning to trust once again. Forgiveness was a long process, still not fully settled between them, but John knows it's thanks to Freddie that Steve came home. Rarely, maybe once a year and only for a few days, but it was progress.

Then something turned almost upside down, taking John by complete surprise, when instead of a semi-cold, official greeting, his son answered the phone with a voice so soft, like it used to be, when he was a kid.

A hint of innocence and happiness, which John feared, were long lost.

He didn't ask about it then, afraid Steve might shut down, but for the first time in years his eyes stung with tears that weren't of guilt and despair.

That day he stood at the beach behind their house, looking at the twirls of sunset melting in the turquoise sheet of the ocean and silently praying to whomever might listen. Hoping for whatever or whoever made his son feel safe and important again, to stay with him for long.

Only later has he learnt that it's a girl. A certain Catherine, also a Navy Officer, who apparently gets him in a way no one else does.

Joe had mentioned, when a couple months ago Steve had been injured after a tough retrieve operation, that the first thing he asked for after waking up, was to make a phone call. And while the doctor assumed he wanted to notify his family, Steve had called Catherine Rollins. According to White, he had never seen that kid grinning so goofily.

There had been a splash of fear, which started forming in John's mind, prompted by Joe's hints to some of the cases where a guy got too distracted by a foolish love strike, but it turned out quite opposite in Steve's case. He was never unfocused, seemed even to get more control over his actions and decisions, as if suddenly given a huge boost of confidence. Yet, after every shitty situation that he and his men had gotten into, his voice stayed soft, the harshness only rarely coming back.

Hopefully, not knowing Catherine is only interim, for John feels her presence in Steve's life is bound to be permanent.

As he looks at the package now, what at first seemed to be a slightly weird present, paints itself as maybe a better one than anyone else could have come up with. Flowers, chocolates or jewelry, however nice and given in good faith, were a simple way to stress the importance of someone's presence in their life. If Steve spent his money on a surfboard and had it shipped here, it meant he's letting her into a part of his life of which he's very protective. It might take time before Steve brings her to Hawaii, but the fact that he wants to, is great in itself.

John hesitates for a moment, before reaching for the phone and dialling. For the past months Steve has been answering almost every call, if he wasn't on duty at the moment, but the fear still lingers, each time taunting John with the painful possibility that he might not be welcomed by his own son.

After a few rings, there's a click and Steve's sleepy voice resounds, "Dad? What is it?"

"Did I wake you up?" John's a little surprised, the last he knows Steve's in Coronado at the moment, where he and his team were sent, so at that hour he should be up. Is he injured, but didn't tell him?

"Uh, yeah, kinda," the way Steve replies has John instantly calm down, hearing the sheepish, but relaxed tone, "More like taking a nap."

John quirks his brow. Napping is definitely not something Steve would do, unless during a long mission, where every quarter safe to sleep is cherished and taken advantage of. The other reason is being tired and John's quick to understand what might be the cause of it. The murmur he can hear in the background, confirms it.

"Ah, _napping_ ," he chuckles, "I see that Coronado has a serious advantage at the moment. I hope you at least make it to dinner."

His son's groan only increases the laughter, but John doesn't tease him anymore, instead explains the reason for his call. "Just wanted to let you know the package is here," his gaze once again travels up and down the tall item, "Came in one piece, there were no problems, so I think it's going to be fine."

"Really?" Steve sounds like a hopeful kid, who can finally breathe with relief, "Thank you. Dad, thanks, really."

"Not a problem," John smiles, hearing the clear happiness in his son's voice. He knows there won't be any small talk following now, mostly because of Steve's company. And he doesn't really mind, knowing they probably have only a few days to spend together, before being separated for months.

There's something he needs to say, however, before disconnecting. A grateful, sincere thought that itches on his tongue. He would love to say it to Catherine personally, thank her for being there for Steve and easing his pain, but instead he voices it differently, hoping Steve can accept the honesty.

"I'm happy for you, Steve," he says quietly, clutching the phone in one hand, while the fingers of the other gently caress the sheets, like he used to touch his boy's hair, when he was sick or afraid.

Long silence stretches on the other side, until Steve clears his throat and responds with an awkward, "Yeah, thanks." It's not cold, nor harsh, only the echo of difficulty that comes with talking to anyone about what's between him and Cath.

John expects to hear the dull sound of disconnected call, but after a few seconds of silence, Steve speaks again, his voice quivering and quiet, merely a whisper, "Dad? I'm happy too."

* * *

 **Coronado, California,  
August, 2009**

Cold drops trickle down the blueish surface, seeping between his fingers and sinking into his warm, tanned skin. The temperature outside causes an instant dew forming on the bottles freshly taken out of the cooler, which Freddie adamantly dragged to the beach. He looks over his shoulder once again, towards where Kelly has gone to, her lean silhouette clad in a bright orange bikini cruising towards the ice cream truck, for, what seemed to be, the third popsicle of the day.

"She hasn't had enough, huh?" a light chuckle coming from his side draws Freddie's attention and he turns his head, glancing at his friend.

"Seem to be the case not only for her," he looks at Steve pointedly, before nodding toward the ocean, "Rollins just can't get enough either."

A stupid grin appears on Steve's face and he takes a swig of his water, casting a glance in Catherine's direction.

She's sitting on a surfboard, legs dangling on both sides. With her hands gripping the edge of the white board, she floats carelessly on the turquoise water, looking around in awe and with curiosity.

Since he promised to teach her how to surf, she's been barely able to contain the eagerness. Steve teased her about the sprint down the beach she performed earlier, when they left the car, earning him a glare and a playful smack. He can't, however, deny how the sparkles in her eyes make him happy.

Something about this day, or the surfing, or maybe the carefree closeness they're in, causes her to say his name a lot - _Am I doing it right, Steve? Oh God, Steve, you're such a goof! Help me a little, please, Steve._

 _Steve. Steve. Steve._

And it makes his heart flip every time his name falls from her lips.

Freddie intently watches his friend, the smile on Steve's face as he looks at Catherine is the most genuine and happy. And while the boost of boyish cockiness her attention gives him is clear on his face, there's also a distinctive shyness and vulnerability, which flash in his eyes. Steve's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the light shade of pink not so evident on his tanned skin, but Freddie knows him well enough to notice the change in his gaze and posture.

It happens the moment she shifts her gaze from a group of kids splashing on the shore, to Steve. Finding him without any difficulty, like she could spot him in a messy crowd. There's a second of a blank pause, her face mirroring Steve's astonished look, like they're discovering each other again and the pull surprises them both. But after a moment, Catherine's face lights up, her smile so beautiful and radiant, reaching her eyes.

Steve stands still, his hand gripping the bottle tighter as his heart seems to clench within his chest.

He's always noticed how beautiful she is, it was hard not to, yet now it comes as a blinding experience. Being by the ocean always makes him somewhat softer, as if the salty breeze stripped him of some tough, unapproachable layer. It's the first time, however, when he shares it with Catherine.

Oh, they've been to the beech numerous times, but never spent a whole day like that, being so close and with him sharing something more than ice cream with her. Teaching her how to surf turned out to be quite... intimate. Steve hadn't predicted the seemingly sporty, casual activity would evoke feelings in him, the ones connected to his past and growing up. It brings memories of times when he was helping up some girls on the board, and being a teenager that closeness definitely worked on him, yet now it is only a dull blur.

His fingers itch to touch Cath, not for the physical pleasure that sliding his fingers along her wet body brings, more for the calm contentment the closeness provides. Each time he helps her up on the board, it feels like guiding her further into his personal space. And he doesn't mind.

"Man," Freddie's voice stirs Steve, "You've got it bad." The chuckle coming out of his mouth isn't mocking, though, but a hint of joy for his friend's happiness.

Steve just shrugs, not saying anything, but his gaze once again shifts to the floating brunette, who is now tinkering with the knot on her bikini bottoms - and _oh-kay_ that is distracting.

Forcing himself to look away, before she catches him and shakes her head at his insatiability, Steve turns more toward his friend.

"I like her," he states, before taking a long gulp of the cool water.

"You don't say," Freddie bursts out laughing, his grin so wide, broadening even more at Steve's eyeroll. "Steve," he calms down slowly, mirth still resounds in his voice as he claps the slightly taller man on the back, "You can be hard to read, when you want to, but not when it comes to Catherine. Sure, I might not know what exactly is going on in that head of yours, but it's pretty obvious your heart is out there in her hands."

There's a glint of dark fear widening Steve's pupils, gone as quickly as it flashed. It's a surge of involuntary panic, not for the obviousness of his attention, but the realization that his damaged heart really is in those small hands and he can't even be sure when it happened exactly.

"It's good," as if reading the uncertainty in his thoughts, Freddie chimes in and squeezes Steve's shoulder briefly, "Somehow I have a feeling it's the safest vault you could've stored your heart in. Or any other part," knowing this moment isn't the best for that kind of talk and sensing Steve's growing discomfort, he easily turns the conversation back to teasing. "Your balls included," he adds with a grin, snorting a loud laugh when Steve looks at him pointedly.

Steve's ready to reply, a cheeky and rather vulgar response already forming on his tongue, but the first syllable dies out, when a melodic voice calls out to him with so much force it surprises both of them.

"Steve!" Catherine bellows, waving her hand energetically and though she is meters away, Steve has a feeling she would just grab him by whatever she could reach and drag back into the ocean. "Come here already!"

He stares at her a little dumbfounded, his heart thumping in a crazily happy rhythm, sending rushes of butterflies through his veins.

Without a doubt, he's got a stupid smile spreading on his lips, but he doesn't really care. Not even when Freddie snorts beside him, muttering about being right about those balls.

Steve just hands him the half-empty bottle and ignoring Freddie's whine, runs down the beach and straight into water. Diving in and emerging right next to Catherine's surfboard, spluttering some water on her.

Freddie shakes his head, when he watches that surprisingly carefree, childish behaviour of his best friend, but the fact Rollins beams up at that and reaches her hand to ruffle Steve's wet hair, evokes Freddie's own grin.

It's an immense relief, more of a state of overwhelming happiness, for the boy who had been so lost in the world, seems to have found his compass to guide him.

* * *

 **Oahu, Hawaii,  
October, 2010**

Her gaze is fixated on the juicy lime-green atop the shimmering blue, shards of silvery fluid splashing rhythmically against the smooth brim. The swirls of orange and red sink further into the horizon, casting warm speckles on the skin of her thighs.

Catherine closes her eyes briefly and leans back, snuggling further into the soft heat, which Steve's body settled behind her provides.

They are sitting on the surfboard. _Her_ surfboard, which she had unwrapped this morning. Her heart still swirls uncontrollably at the memory of Steve's uncertain gaze following her every move and then the glint in his eyes, when she teared up. Mindlessly, Cath skims her fingertips over the now wet surface, gently caressing the gift. She then moves her hand to trace a line down the arm, that is curled around her waist.

"Weren't we supposed to surf?" she asks with a light chuckle, twisting her head slightly, so she can at least catch a glimpse of his profile.

Steve hums, his chin resting on her shoulder, "I like _this_ better." As if to emphasize, he tightens his arm around her and pulls her closer, both of them gasping a little at the contact.

"Sure you do," Cath grins, but truthfully she doesn't mind either. However tempting the prospect of trying out her new surfboard was, spending time snuggled in Steve's arms and simply enjoying the view, is far more worthy. Then again, she wouldn't be herself, if an ounce of teasing didn't roll on her tongue.

"Are you tired with our beach activities, or too heavy after those burnt steaks?"

A naughty gleam lights her eyes, her lips parting slightly at the twitch in Steve's muscles, the flex in his arms, when the mere memory of her pink dress rolled up to her waist fills his mind and his fingers getting lost between her thighs, which seem to move his digits downwards in a slow motion now, too. Steve stops his fingers right above the line of her bikini bottoms, tracing teasingly under the fabric.

"Funny, Rollins," he looks at her, rolling his eyes at the grin plastered on her face. "Should I remind you who initiated the beach activities, as you put it, and therefore is also responsible for those steaks? Which, by the way, were not burnt. Only a little crispy."

At that Cath bursts in melodic giggles, her head on Steve's shoulder, body shaking within his arms. He tries to throw her a stern look, but his own lips are curled in a smile.

There's a mischievous spark in Steve's eyes, that goes unnoticed by Cath. Her laughter ceases a second after, when she feels his arm really tightening around her and the other, that's resting on her left knee, slips underneath it. The movement causing their bodies to shift to the right side, makes her quickly realize his intentions.

"Steve, don't you da-" her warning dies in a loud splash as Steve throws both of them off the board and into the water.

When in the ocean, Steve loosens his grip and Catherine manages to twist her body, turning around to face him as they both emerge. She gasps for breath, as she wasn't prepared for the sudden loss of air. Steve, on the other hand, has his breathing in complete control, grinning at her triumphantly.

Catherine takes another deep breath, limbs moving in hectic instinct, before settling into a steady rhythm helping her float.

"Goof!" she splashes at Steve, stopping with a tiny yelp, when he suddenly catches her wrist and pulls her closer.

The lights reflecting in the water cast yellow speckles on the deep green of the tattoos on his arms, mesmerizing Cath for a moment. As their bodies brush against each other, she lifts her gaze upward. She has seen Steve's face so many times, but it seems she can't help the instant need to trace every line with her eyes, again and again. Memorizing, just in case.

Now, however, the need bubbling deep in her stomach is definitely not of desperate hope, but tingling temptation. His eyes bluer than ever, long eyelashes seemingly darker. There's a shining drop of water swinging on his eyelash, that falls on his cheek and trickles in a wicked curve. Catherine follows its path with her gaze, pupils widening as the drop reaches the corner of his mouth and Steve licks it with the tip of his tongue in a swift move.

And he notices that _she_ notices.

An absolutely stupid realization that rushes his blood into places and curves his lips into a smirk.

Cath opens her mouth, probably to scold him some more, but Steve captures her mouth in a kiss. The salty taste of the ocean quickly disperses on their tongues, leaving the sweet, familiar flavour. He still has his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist, rubbing low circles and moving it to rest on his shoulder as he keeps both of their bodies floating.

When they pull apart, Cath's eyes stay closed for a little longer and when she opens them, Steve's staring right at her. The playfulness somehow gone, replaced by astonishment and a hint of an emotion growing intense.

"I love you," Steve blurts out, surprising himself with it.

It's not a completely new feeling for him. Damn, it has been growing and spreading for the past years, but still got stuck in the back of his throat, crumpled with all the bitter, fearful thoughts. But a flare of new realization tore through them recently. He has lost his best friend and his father, unable to mend everything that was ever wrong between them. While the smallest thought of Catherine getting hurt is almost impossible to bear, he wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of never saying how he feels.

Slender fingers slide off his arms as if suddenly something pulled her down, however, she not only resumes her hold on him, but wraps one arm around his neck, fingers combing through his damp hair. The other hand she brings to touch Steve's cheek.

She leans back, when he attempts to dive for another kiss, probably to shut down the fear and distract her from what he had just said. But she wants him to face those emotions, not run away from the situation.

Pressing a little harder on his cheek, she makes Steve look at her, when she replies softly, "I love you, too."

The kiss that follows after a long moment is most welcomed. Harder and hotter than the previous, bodies clashing, Catherine's legs wrapped around Steve's hips. Focused on holding her and kissing, he lets the water pull them in for a few seconds. They don't part, though, even as the water engulfs them completely.


End file.
